


Strange Case of Jackson Jekyll and Holt Hyde

by hydesboy



Category: Monster High
Genre: an unnamed character does die later on, more au than anything, warnings included in chapter summaries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28188591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydesboy/pseuds/hydesboy
Summary: History seems to repeat itself, or at least that seems to be the case if one's surname so happened to be Jekyll.A rewrite/reimagining of the Jekyll and Hyde book, but it's done as Monster High because I am nostalgic for a franchise I enjoyed when I was a little lad
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	1. Story of the Locker

Frankie Stein had not even reached a month of life, stitched and patched together with the parts of those that had passed from the world of the living, and so she had entered the halls of Monster High wholly unfamiliar with the world. She had a way of lighting up the room, making those in her companionship comfortable and left with an exceedingly high view of her. The creature was in a perpetual state of teenagerhood and with it brought a wonderment of a life that she was only just beginning to step foot into. Her joy for life was contagious, those who considered her a friend and even those who did not were often left with a brighter outlook than which they might have held prior to their encounter.  
She was determined in a way that few others were to live and live to the absolute fullest. Oftentimes her companions were more than happy to accommodate. Whether it was to go out on grandiose experiences or sharing what might have happened in the past.

It was the precise latter of this that this story begins. Walking through the corridors of the high school, Frankie was engaging in pleasant conversation with one of her dearest of friends, a werewolf with dreams of merging the fashions of monster and normie in a way that was enjoyable for both sides of the coins. Clawdeen Wolf was a fiercely loyal, determined teenager who had worked hard to win her own personal reputation rather than simply relying on that of her family. She had come from a large family, as was how it so often was in werewolf families, and she cared for them as much as a sister could, even if, on occasion, they set fur pricking and fangs flashing in irritation. But it was, as it always was in families, the anger was rarely long lasting.  
The pair at that particular moment were meandering through the corridors, largely empty of students given that it was after class, the two having lingered back to work on an assessment they were doing together and, when their work had reached an adequate point of near completion, they had decided to head home for the day.

"Hey ghoul," the werewolf began, something inquisitive enough to have this be met with a questioning hum, "Do you know who's locker that is?" asked she, offering a gesture towards a particular locker, letting her stride fall still. One hand was resting in the pocket of her artfully ripped, purple jeans, the other tapping a claw upon the metal of the locker.

"I think so?" returned the patched together creature, her nose wrinkled up as if she had expected this to help her recall, "Why?"

"I saw somethin' super weird with it the other day, if you wanna hear it?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Frankie, clasping her hands together excitedly, "Do tell!"

Clawdeen's story went as follows.

_Clawdeen had been heading to Study Howl the other day, her spirits particularly high as she had just gotten a decent mark back on an assignment she had been proud of. There weren't all too many people still in the hallways, but she did not have all that much of a need to hurry._

_Although she had been quite off in her own thoughts, she heard the sound of footfalls thundering about in the near empty hall, which was not all too unusual, but what it was that made the experience memorable was that the source, a manster that she had seen once or twice in passing but had heard significantly more often had collided straight into a student from the junior high, tumbling right over her in a way that would undoubtedly hurt. Rather than even looking back to make sure the child was alright, the lad who's skin glowed blue from the intensity of the flames that burned beneath his skin, he simply picked himself up and carried on._

_"Hey!" she had called out to him, but when he didn't react, she had decided to give chase. It was not just that the child, a shy little scrap by the name of Twyla, was injured but because of the absolute disregard for the fact that he had caused harm to her and simply carried on that really bothered her.  
Thankfully she had her own naturally enhanced athletic ability that came about due to her being a werewolf, and his own smaller stature to her advantage and had caught up before too long._

_The fuss had drawn the attention of those still not yet at class, a few clustering around the distraught child, which did little to make the poor Twyla feel at all comfortable, the rest watching on curiously as she hauled the protesting lad back, gripping the back of his collar like a disobedient puppy.  
"Apologise!" she growled at him, tossing him vaguely away from her, the little group of onlookers quickly making it obvious that his escape would be difficult indeed._

_"Aww, why ya killin' my cool, ghoul?" whined the flame haired lad, his voice obnoxiously loud to combat the headphones that here sitting snugly over his ears. It was to no surprise that he was winning no friends with those gathered._

_"Why?" she scoffed, teeth bared, "You just hurt my baby sister's ghoulfriend!" exclaimed the werewolf, flinging her arms up into the air in a display of exasperated, irritated emotions, "You don't hurt kids, or anyone, but especially not kids!"_

_One of the group, a vampire who had not shared her name with the wolf offered to take the child to the nurse, and while he and the now limping Twyla departed, much to the latter's relief as it meant she would no longer be the center of so much attention, the rest bundled up the now assailant and they made their way to the Headless Headmistress' office. His complaints and flat threats fell on unlistening ears._

_Given that the Headmistress was in a meeting at the precise moment they had arrived, the collective was bustled over to the waiting room. There was an odd weight to the room, the witnesses and the one of which was witnessed seated there in an oddly stiff manner, nobody there having a particularly pleasant time._

_"You don't gotta snitch on me, that ain't cool, yo!" the one who was hardly riding the waves of social graces at the moment declared, "We don't have to make anythin' out of this. Look, I have a gig on the weekend, how's 'bout I jus' give you lot tickets and we can jus' pretend this never happened. Whaddya say?"_

_"She," Clawdeen had returned, "Wouldn't want to get caught in a crowd. That'd make things worse!"_

_There was something almost musical in the way he groaned, his head thrown back in an unseemly and unrestrained display of emotion. He pouted but, as a glance about the room made exceptionally clear, nobody there was going to sympathise with him._

_"Alright alright, tickets for whoever wants it, and I have a cupcake in my locker that she can have. Deal?"_

_"Alright," said one of the group, "But you have to prove you actually did it."_

_It was this that had lead them to the very locker that had reminded the young Clawdeen of this tale at all. They were clustered about him as he opened the locker, a locker of which the werewolf could have sworn was not his own, made a great show of taking the pastry out, writing a note on a scrap of paper that he tore out of a workbook with no regard for it, and then, with the same flourish, he even lead the march to offer the treat to the child so that she might forget that he had injured her at all._

"That's horrible!" Frankie Stein exclaimed when the story had reached its conclusion, her mismatched eyes wide. 

" I know! It wasn't even his locker he went to, he just stole someone else's food to try and bribe a kid! It's been botherin' me, you know? He coulda just apologised, but he had to make a whole show out of it!"

"You know it isn't his?" asked the monochromatic haired individual, glancing back to where the locker in question had been.

"I've seen someone else using it. Why, the very next day I passed by to get to class and there was someone completely different using it. I didn't mention what had happened to him, he always looks scared half to death so I didn't want to make it worse, but I was tempted to!" declared the wolfgirl, letting out a huff to punctuate the ending.

"Who was using the locker?" the frankensteinian creation asked, realising then that she knew who it was that the locker should have belonged to, the slightest spark at her bolts coming when the realisation occurred.

"That DJ, Hyde. Holt or whatever his name was."

"Have you told anyone else about this?" the almost corpse asked cautiously.

"No, I didn't think it was fair. Jackson's having a hard enough time here, I'd hate it if news that other monsters were trying to steal from him and use him as some sort of scapegoat got out. Don't think that'd help anything, adding to gossip and things."

"That's wise, I'm sure that if he needed help he would tell us. I'm sure it was just a coincidence that it was Jackson's locker that Holt had stolen from."

As it so often was with stories, the conversation then changed to something generally mundane even as the oddity of the situation settled into her heart. Frankie would have liked to say she was on friendly terms with the normie-passing lad, and so she hardly wanted to think that another monster was causing him problems.


	2. Search for Holt Hyde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie wants answers but she was just met with more questions

The thought of the strange tale that Clawdeen had told the young Stein had been playing in her mind in an odd and generally unpleasant way, and no matter how hard she might have tried, it had managed to hook its claws so determinedly into her thoughts that even when preoccupied it was never completely gone.  
Jackson was a quiet, awkward soul that had a terrible time fitting in, and it set her sparking nervously at the bolts at the thought that he was in danger, especially if the danger was coming from what the rumours had suggested was a particularly popular kid. Frankie would have liked to consider herself a friend of Jackson, and yet the lad had never once mentioned an association with the up and coming DJ, pleasant or otherwise, which only managed to worry her more. Perhaps, she hoped, she was just making mountains out of bulette hills, but she had decided it was always better to make sure, just in case she would have to make some sort of daring and extravagant rescue, already knowing that the lad was far too polite to try and stand up for himself. She'd seen this first hand far too many times to hope for a miracle.

In the past, she had heard of Jackson lurking about in the catacombs to try and avoid crossing paths with those who were less than fond if him, and so she set off into the dark belly of the school. Even if he was not there, she could at least hope to pass a familiar face or two.

As luck would have it, the lass who so often lurked about beneath the surface, a musical soul with hair a metaphoric flame in the darkness and a face partially obscured from sight, was less hidden away than she so often was.

"Well howdy," a voice from the shadows had exclaimed, causing the stitched together teen to jump just a little, "What're you doin' in my neck of the woods?" asked Operetta, as close to a pleasant smile as one raised by the infamous Opera Ghost himself could ever hope to muster.

"I was looking for Jackson," came the response, "Or for information about him, or anything really. Have you seen him?"

"He pops 'is head 'round these parts sometimes, not for a hot minute though, why?"the other responded, offering a noncommittal wave of her hand.

"I think he's in trouble," she returned, "I mean, it's just a hunch, a feeling in my bolts really, but I think he's in even more trouble than usual!"

This was met with a not quite humming scoff - Operetta wouldn't risk outright song, it was far too risky when she didn't have enough of a handle on her abilities - the redhead cocking her head, hand on her hip. There was something in this that was obviously prompting her to continue before she would believe this.

"Apparently that boy, Holt, has been walking all over him and I'm worried about him."

"Holt?" exclaimed the musical spirit, "You mean that no-good, rotten varmint what keeps invadin' my space down 'ere?" The more she spoke, the more a clear irritation made itself known in her voice.

"You know him?"

"No!" Operetta exclaimed with more force than it was possibly needing, clearly determined to make the fact that no, she did not personally know the lad in question, "'e keeps skulkin' 'bout down 'ere like he's up to somethin' without cleanin' up after 'imself or nothin'!"

"So, he does come by here?" Frankie returned in a distinctly pondering sort of manner.

It was not long before the frankensteinian creation made her exit, her mind not at all put to ease. What sort of monster was this Hyde? She had never seen him, though she had heard that he had a way of making any event or party at least a dozen times more wild by simply being there, that he had an ease in seemingly any situation, and yet still spent his time skulking about beneath the school, and seemed to have no regard for anyone but himself. There were too many disconnected things about him that left her with more questions than answers. But, if there was one thing that a Stein was good at, it was piecing together seemingly unrelated parts and making it something whole.

With a determined declaration of, "If he will Hyde, then I will Seek!" she decided she would simply have to meet this young Hyde, even if it was more of a bother than a benefit for her.  
The following day, when she was supposed to go to the library for Study Howl, she waited by the locker that she knew was Jackson's, hoping that it was true that Holt's reputation for skipping class would work in her favour.  
It was not the first, nor even fourth day in a row that her patience came through in her benefit, but eventually her stubborn determination paid off.

A lad sauntered up with all the self-confidence in the world practically oozing from every inch of him. His skin was blue from the flames dwelling just beneath the surface of it, his hair in a perpetual state of burning, flames licking each strand, leaving them to float about, eyes pools of flame. The music playing in his headphones were so loud that she could hear it when he had drew near, his path obviously the locker.

"You're Holt, right?" asked she, making sure that her presence was noticed.

"You know it!" was what she was met with, his voice obnoxious and far too loud, "And who might you be then?" He paused, leaning against the locker, leaning into her space far too much far too quickly, causing her to take an instinctual step away. "No no wait, lemme guess! You're Frankie, right? I know I'm right, so just say it, little love!"

"Uh," she so eloquently replied, having to take a moment to absorb everything that had been said to her all at once, "Yeah, that's me, and that's not your locker."

"And what of it?" asked he in a particularly teasing manner, making a mighty show of going to open it, "It's not like the owner is here to stop me, now is he?" There was something in his tone that suggested that there was something hiding just beneath the surface of his words, but she couldn't understand what it was.

"You can't just go around breaking into other monsters' lockers without their permission! That's stealing." said Frankie, trying to not let the sheer confidence in everything he was saying dissuade her.

"Who says I don't have permission?"

"What?" asked she, briefly thrown off.

"You said I was breakin' in, but who said Jackson didn't ask me to?" Once more he leaned in far too closely, a purr to his voice and an excess of emphasis on the word 'ask'. "You're makin' some might accusations there. How'd you even know me? My reputation precedes me that much, eh?"

"I'm a friend of Jackson's and he told me about you." Frankie bluffed, her arms crossed determinedly. This was the wrong decision.

"He did not!" Holt shouted, his casual charm shifting instantly to anger, "You're just lying to try and get me in trouble too!"

"I'm not lying!"

"You are!" exclaimed he, his bared teeth uncomfortably close to her face, "I didn't think that you were the sort to lie!"

Before she was able to try and defend, or at least explain herself the bell rang, signalling the start of the next class. With a frustrated huff, she turned and stalked off to class, deciding not to even give him the dignity of a response.  
Her thoughts were not at all at ease, in fact, they were all the more heavy. Holt was dreadful, loud, and obnoxious, all the traits that Jackson did not have. Oh, now she was absolutely positive that the poor Jekyll was in danger from the dangerous Hyde, and she needed to speak to the bespectacled young lad as soon as she could.

Although it was against the rules, she pulled her iCoffin out of her pocket, giving the surrounds a careful glance to make sure she wouldn't be about to run right into a teacher, and dialed his number. After a series of rings, she was met with his voicemail. She tried again, and even a third time but there was no reply no matter how many times she tried.  
"Hey Jackson, it's Frankie. Could you give me a call back soon, I'm worried about you."  
She just had to hope he'd open his voicemails and actually get back to her so she could finally get some answers.


	3. Jackson Jekyll was quite at ease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie and Jackson have a brief conversation between classes

Frankie had not been granted the opportunity to meet up with Jackson, though this was not all too much of a surprise to her. The lad always was more illusive than most, needing to creep around as to avoid those students that had foul intentions for him, so the less frequented paths suited him wonders. But on one rainy day, the young Jekyll did not dash on out of the classroom as was his usual manner, but instead he had chosen to linger back. Jackson was an odd sight in a school for monsters, appearing utterly and undeniably human, and not even in the dead-but-not sort, just a Normie amongst a crowd of monsters. His glasses had previously been held together by a piece of sticky tape, but she was pleasantly surprised to find that they had been repaired since she had seen him last.

"Hey Jackson," called the patchwork creature, waving to him so that her presence was announced, though she had to stop this before she ran the risk of losing the hand altogether, "I've been looking for you."

"Have you?" came the lad's response, something hidden away - hidden under layer after layer of undertones, an expectation of the Jekyll bloodline, to be able to hide true emotions under layers of false but more presentable emotions - that suggested that the thought that someone would think to look for him was a genuine surprise, at least when it was with a friendly intention.

"I have been!" she returned, her eyes wide to emphasise this, "I've been worried about you! I've seen you around even less than usual."

"I've just been busy, you don't need to worry about me," Jackson replied, then as he worried he was rude with this added a quick, "Really, I'm sure you have better things to worry about than just me." The smile he offered with this was not the most reassuring smile he could have offered, but he was not all that good at faking facial expressions yet.

"I don't think that," she offered as a reply, claiming one of the empty seats so she wasn't looming over him in an interrogatory fashion, "After all, I met that Holt kid that I've heard was bothering you." She was careful to not elaborate too much, just in case he closed himself off even more than usual.  
At the mentioning of the name 'Holt', Jackson flinched.

"Oh, Frankie," started the lad who had seemed to have paled significantly, "It's nothing you need to worry about, really and truly, you're worrying yourself over nothing."

"It doesn't sound like nothing," she returned, resting her chin on her palm, the other hand busying itself with brushing aside her crackly streaked hair away, "You can tell me anything, you know? I can help you, that's what friends do."

"There's nothing you can do."

"Oh?" said she, which was perfectly valid given how unintentionally ominous this was, "I promise you, if there's anything that I can do, I will do! I don't want anyone to be giving you a had time if I can help it."

"It's not that I don't believe you," Jackson began after a prolonged silence, "It's just that there really isn't anything you need to do. I really am alright, this is nothing that I can't handle but," he paused, continuing more for her sake than his own, "If that changes, I will let you know. It's a weird situation but it's nothing you need to stress about."

"If you're sure?"

"I am." he stated then, after a moment of which he spent fidgeting with his fingers as he tried to seemingly pluck the words he needed from the air, "But if I'm not, if I have to leave, if anything happens to me," a beat, "Not that that'll happen, but could you keep an eye on him for me? He's loud and obnoxious, sure, but he isn't that much of a bad guy all things considered, just not used to things like this." A gesture to the classroom implied the 'this' meant schooling. "I'm sorry for having to ask you to do this, and it won't be needed, but if it would, it would mean a lot to me."

"Of course I will," came Frankie's response, "Not that it will come to that."

Before the conversation was able to progress further, Jackson needed to leave so that he was not late for his next class.  
She had hoped that by talking to him, her mind would be put to ease, but it seemed that was the opposite of what happened and so, when she left for her own class, she had a new weight placed haphazardously upon her shoulders.


	4. The Carew Murder Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The murder of a Normie by a Monster had been seen by an unfortunate onlooker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Brief references of violence and death

A good month had passed by and things had seemed to have returned to as close to a state of normalcy that there could be at Monster High. But as the case always seemed to be, this calm was thrown up in the air following a crime of such unexpected ferocity that it seemed unbelievable in both the Monster and Normie circles.

The night had progressed just the same as the nights before it had progressed, and for the teenager had was gazing out into the street as she was procrastinating her homework, it would have been safe to assume this would remain so. As was so often the case when presented with particularly tedious homework, her mind was a world away, the possibilities of the night, the next day, her upcoming plans with friends and all manner of far more interesting things than algebra all keeping her thoughts pleasantly occupied. All in all, she was very much in high spirits. The street that had been previously empty, given the lateness of the hour, was all of a sudden less than. With a scrap of mild amusement, perhaps even interest, she noted that the older man who she spied through her window was Mr. Carew, a teacher at the very same high school she attended. He, she knew, lived in the same street as she did as her parents had attended a dinner there once. She had not been in attendance as it seemed terribly dull but her parents had spoken kindly of the man.  
He was not alone in the street she noted.  
Alongside the teacher was a lad that she assumed to be near her age, and yet there seemed to be something altogether wrong about him. The streetlight had been out for almost a week now, and yet he seemed to be glowing with an odd blue light. In fact, though she was sure her memory was playing tricks on her when she thought back on it, but she could have sworn the youth was blue down to the skin.  
Before the guilt of potentially spying on the two, who seemed to offer a curt greeting to one another, had managed to settle upon her to the point of looking away, there seemed to be a sudden change in the younger's disposition. With a fit of emotion, fear or anger she wasn't quite sure, the lad swung at the teacher with a viciousness she had not seen outside of a fictional context. As expected, the man had gone to move away, but the youth rammed his head right into him, and in a flurry of violence, punched and stamped and attacked, and while she could not hear them she was absolutely sure they were hard and solid.  
In a panic of her own, the girl had hidden away with her curtains drawn in a way she feared was horribly obvious, sure that the monster - for now she was sure it would have had to be a monster - would see her and choose her as his next victim. An hour had passed before she thought to call the police and report what she saw, but the perpetrator had left as soon as he had been able to, and the only thing left beyond the slightly burnt form of what had once been a teacher was a pair of cheap sunglasses that had been stepped on in the haste of escape.

"Have you heard the news?" exclaimed a purple clad specter as soon as Frankie had set both feet into the school ground, "A monster was seen attacking a Normie! This is huge! There hasn't been an attack like this is decades!" With a twirl, but no time to ask for elaboration, Spectra was off sharing this scrap of information with the next monster who had gotten too close to her.

Now this made Frankie's forehead furrow with concern. She was not very old, not even by the standard of the reanimated dead, but she knew the nervous buzzing that filled the air - her own bolts, she noted, were crackling with her own nerves, on edge due to the magnitude of others responses - made it all too clear that this was significant.  
She most certainly did not like the amount of times she had heard the name Holt Hyde whispered fearfully by those who had spoken of him with a sort of reverence. Even if she tried, which she did not want to do, she could not imagine ever wanting to bring harm to another.

It was clearly far too late to try and cover things up, at least if there was to be any success in the matter, and this only added to the tension in the air. The years of secrecy being shattered by one single foolish action was no laughing matter and even Frankie, who considered this secrecy to be entirely ridiculous was a little worried about what might come of this. Those who had faced the vengeful wrath of the Normies in the past were more than a little concerned. In fact, a lass she had only seen in passing before was in tears, sobbing openly about the fact she didn't want to move and leave all her friends behind again while fleeing an angry mob. Frankie did not like the thought of an angry mob.

Before she was able to think too long on the matter, the warning bell rang and cut away her thoughts like a knife. There was a sluggishness in her step as she made her way towards the homeroom, and as a familiar ghost passed by an idea formed in her mind.

"Hey Spectra?" called she before she had the chance to think too much on her request, "Would you be able to check out a locker for me? I think I left something in here but I can't get it back open."  
It was an invasion of privacy, she knew this and she felt absolutely terrible about it but, if the ghost did see through her lies, evidently she did not think to question it. This was little surprise given that Spectra was fond of gossip so without too much fuss or questions, the ghost had phased into the locker that the creation had pointed to.

"It's empty, don't worry! Gotta go! Bye." the ghost said as she rushed off, the second and more final bell rang, and since she needed to be off in the other side of the school, she did not wait to see the utterly bewildered look on Frankie's face.

The locker couldn't have been empty, it was Holt's locker.


End file.
